A Question Of Trust
by Gary Merchant
Summary: The Sixth Doctor arrives in a picteresque village, but first impressions can be misleading.


A QUESTION OF TRUST

It seemed an idyllic setting. Very picturesque, he thought. It was only when you scratched beneath the surface that the reality broke through. And all the smiles were forced, albeit well hidden. That was a necessity, if anyone was to survive here.

For once, the Doctor was glad he had forsaken his usual attire for something more in keeping with the surroundings. It was one of those occasions when he didn't wish to draw attention to himself. Finding himself a table at the café, he ordered a pot of tea for one and a slice of fruit cake.

He sipped at his tea, reflecting that, were it not for the agenda hidden beneath its façade, this place could have been a welcome stopover on his travels. But as he knew all too well, first impressions were not always reliable.

A supervisor regarded the image of the Doctor on the giant view screen. "Who is he?"

"Someone I've been expecting," came the reply from his superior. "Watch him, but take no action."

"Is that advisable?" the supervisor asked. "He has yet to be integrated into our society."

His superior nodded thoughtfully. "Let him explore his surroundings. His curiosity will lead him here eventually."

The Doctor was still sipping at his tea when the seat facing him became occupied. "You're new here."

"Relatively," he admitted, studying the newcomer's face. There was a keen intelligence there, with an undercurrent of obstinacy bubbling under the surface. "What about you – how long have you been here?"

"You could view me as one of the new boys," the man replied with a half smile. "But one day is very much like another in this place. You'll find that, as time passes."

"Hardly a comforting thought," the Doctor observed. "Forgive me, but you don't strike me as someone who's willing to comply."

The man shrugged. "Just expressing an opinion."

The Doctor had recognised the man immediately, having confirmed his likeness some time ago from the TARDIS Data Bank. Here in the village, he was referred to as Number 6. The Doctor noted his guardedness when he spoke. Understandable, of course. For all Number 6 knew, the Doctor was a spy, sent here to observe. Which, in a way, was partly true. "I forgot to pay for the tea," he said, looking for a waitress. "How do I…?"

The man smiled. "It's a credits system, but if this is your first day they'll probably let it pass this time."

"Just as well," the Doctor sighed. "I don't normally carry money, as a rule."

Inside his flat, the Doctor found new clothes laid out on the bed for him. The dark jacket was hardly flattering, but the white piping trim offered a sense of style. The turtleneck shirt, beige trousers and black and white shoes completed the ensemble. "At least I'll blend in," he muttered. Credits currency and a badge were also provided. He took the former but chose to ignore the latter. A telephone rang. He picked it up. "Hello?"

"I do hope you're settling in," said a voice. "I think it's about time we met. You'll find me at…"

"Yes, I know the place," the Doctor interrupted. He set the phone down, cutting off the conversation. He strolled outside, and headed towards a green domed building. As he walked, a cheery female voice blared out from an intercom system, declaring what a lovely day it was, while the Doctor responded to various greetings from other long-term guests.

A series of stone steps led him up to the domed building. He entered the plush hallway, where a butler of short stature stood before a set of metal doors, bowing to the Doctor as the doors slid open, revealing a spacious interior dominated by a huge view screen on one side of the room. At its centre stood a circular bank of controls in front of a large hemispherical shaped chair, which slowly spun around to reveal its occupant.

The Doctor stepped warily into the room, the doors closing behind him. "Can we be heard?"

"No, this is a secure area," came the reply. "There are no listening devices here. We can speak freely."

"I suppose I'll just have to take your word for that." The Doctor came down the walkway to the centre of the room. "Though I can't help wondering why you're here. Not your sort of thing, I'd have thought."

"My dear Doctor, you do dissappoint me. Surely you, of all people, must concede that this whole enterprise is a fascinating concept."

True, the Doctor couldn't deny his own curiosity, which had prompted his visit in the first place. But what concerned him now was the apparent interest of the man seated before him. Just what was in this for the Master, he wondered. He regarded his old foe with some interest, noting that, like him, he had changed his usual garb for the same type of clothes the Doctor was wearing, the only addition being a black and white scarf. "So, you're in charge here?"

The Master hushed the Doctor as the butler appeared from a side door, wheeling a trolley containing various selections of food and drink. "They really do think of everything here," he said, as he dismissed the butler. "Please, help yourself to whatever you wish. I believe there's toast, bacon and eggs, tea and coffee – anything." He waited until the butler had left before answering the Doctor's question. "For once, Doctor, I am a lowly second-in-command, as are many of those who occupy this position. But it offers me a unique viewpoint on what goes on here. Imagine it, Doctor – a remote village that houses the best and most renowned agents of their country, destined to live the remainder of their lives here, with no possibility of escape. It's a scenario that not even our own people would have devised."

"For once, I have to agree with you," the Doctor admitted, as they watched the view screen pan across the scenery. "On the outside, it appears to be a paradise, but any such paradise has its serpents. And not everyone is content with their lot. There is one person who continues to fight against this regime, despite the odds."

"Ah yes, you've already met him," the Master recalled. "Quite a fascinating individual. His battle against this particular system is most intriguing."

"Which brings me back to my original question," said the Doctor. "Why are you here? Is this part of some nefarious scheme of yours?"

The Master poured himself a cup of coffee. "When I chanced upon the information about this village, I was curious. I assume it was that same curiosity that brought you here, Doctor." He sipped at the coffee, approving of its taste. "It was a simple enough matter to be placed in a position of power, alongside those before me, and those who will follow. All I have to do is observe."

"And?"

The Master caught the probing stare in the Doctor's eyes. "And yes, I am expected to investigate our young friend's reluctance to reveal his reasons for leaving. Which reminds me – it's time I introduced myself to him. Why don't you join me, Doctor?"

"And have him think we're working together? No, I think not."

"As you wish." The Doctor followed the Master out of the building, parting company at the top of a path. The Doctor moved across to a notice board, its subjects ranging from art classes to hot air ballooning. The latter puzzled him. Surely, such an activity could hardly be contained within the confines of the village. Very strange.

"Sorry if I've kept you waiting, Number 6," the Master said. "This place doesn't run itself, as I'm sure you'll appreciate." He fell in step beside the man.

"I'd appreciate it even more if I wasn't here to begin with."

Beneath the flippant riposte, the Master could sense the keen mind. He could see why this man had been such a challenge to his predecessors. "It's all for the greater good," he said.

"Really?" he said. "Yours or mine?"

"That would depend on your point of view," the Master conceded. "But you must believe me when I say that there is nothing wrong here. Nothing wrong at all." He caught the man by his shoulder, forcing him to remain still. If only he could break his mental defences… he began reaching into the man's mind, to try to influence his thinking. But there was a barrier – something he could not breach at this low level of mesmerism, and he dared not risk playing his hand too soon.

Number 6 shook his head as if to clear it. "If there were nothing wrong," he stated, "then you would be out of a job." He smiled, before shrugging the Master's hand away, and striding off.

The Master watched him go. "Fascinating," he whispered. "A brilliant mind."

The Doctor was sat watching the chess game being played out on the lawn. All of the pieces were fellow residents, each adopting their role as individual chess pieces. All very innocent, but still with a trace of malignancy. And watching the game gave the Doctor a chance to think.

Just what was the Master up to this time? During their conversation he had said much, but had given nothing away. Whatever his plans, they were undoubtedly linked to this place in some way. If only he could find the link. "Do you play?"

The Doctor had been joined by Number 6. "Not as much as I would like," he replied. "I never seemed to have the time before."

A half-smile flitted across the man's face. "I see you're not wearing your number badge."

"Not my sort of thing," the Doctor told him. "If people see you as a number, then you lose all sense of identity."

"My sentiment's entirely – but then, you probably know that already."

The Doctor looked at him in confusion for a moment, then understood. "You think I'm with them?"

"It wouldn't be the first time that someone has pretended to gain my confidence," he said. "So you'll forgive me if I don't immediately trust a new face."

"I quite understand." Both men turned to follow the rest of the game, only for a commotion ahead of them to break through onto the lawn. An older man was pushing past the human chess pieces, a look of fear on his face. "You have to get out of here, all of you!" Others stood silently watching as he continued his babbling tirade. "They'll get you all eventually!"

"Halt!" A commanding voice barked through the intercom system. "Remain where you are."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you," the man yelled. "Well, I'm not one of your puppets. I want to be free of this place, and you can't stop me!" By now, he had reached the village square. The Doctor and the man had followed at a slow pace, not wanting to cause any further disruption.

Then a roaring, balloon-like creature appeared from nowhere, blocking off the older man's escape. The Doctor stared, horrified. "No."

"That's Rover." Number 6 held his arm. "There's nothing you can do."

"Isn't there?" He threw off the man's grip and broke into a run, past other villagers toward the man now cowering beneath the hovering creature. "Leave him alone!" the Doctor screamed, throwing himself between the older man and Rover. Then the two of them were totally enveloped in whiteness. Unable to catch his breath, the Doctor struggled in vain before the world around him faded into black.

The Doctor awoke to find the Master peering over him. "Oh, it's you," he grumbled, looking around. He was in the hospital, that much was clear. "What happened to…?"

"Unfortunately, he didn't survive." There was genuine regret in the Master's voice. "A terrible way to die. You were fortunate – Rover doesn't seem able to digest a Time Lord."

"Oh, lucky me." The Doctor was not in the best of moods. The death of anyone was regrettable in his eyes, but to live when someone else had died didn't sit well with him. "That Rover thing should be put on a lead."

"Just be grateful you're still alive," the Master cautioned. "And before I forget, you have a visitor."

The ward door opened to reveal Number 6. There was a look of sorrow in his eyes as he studied the Doctor, who sat up to greet him. "Did you hear about the old man?"

"Yes, I've just been told." He cast a glance at the Master. "Terrible business. I wish I could have done more."

"You did all that you could," Number 6 conceded. "To be honest, I'm surprised you're still alive to tell the tale. As I know from personal experience, Rover isn't known for his leniency."

The Doctor offered a weak smile. "Perhaps I was just lucky – not that I feel it."

The man nodded. "I hear they're letting you out later – the hospital, of course."

"Then we should let him rest," the Master said, as he ushered Number 6 out of the ward. "Be seeing you," he added, closing the door behind him.

Alone, the Doctor pondered his situation. It had only been intended as a brief visit, so that he might understand the workings of the village. But through unhappy circumstance, the Doctor had now become a part of it. And with the Master involved, he could no longer remain on the sidelines.

The Doctor had been discharged from hospital later the same day, and the silent butler was helping him on with his jacket, brushing away a few specks of dust. Then he dismounted from a set of steps, bowing to the Doctor before taking his leave. Number 6 watched him go. "He doesn't say much, but you can rely on him not to give away any secrets."

"Rather like you, in that respect," the Doctor ventured.

Number 6 allowed himself a smile. "Possibly. Come on. We should be in time for afternoon tea at the café."

The Master was observing their progress on the huge screen before him. "Well?"

"They're talking," the supervisor informed him, as they watched them order a pot of tea. "In fact, they seem to be getting on rather well."

"I had expected as much." There was a note of approval in the Master's voice. "Everything is going according to plan."

Number 6 seemed more relaxed than before, a fact which didn't go unnoticed by the Doctor. Even the regimented greetings from other villagers didn't seem to bother him as much. "Don't be deceived," he said, when the Doctor pressed him on this. "When you've been here for a while, you learn to affect a more affable persona. It gets you through the worst of it – most of the time."

"I'll bear that in mind," the Doctor assured him. "Anything been happening during my stay in hospital?"

"Nothing," Number 6 replied.

"You seem disappointed."

"Just… unsettled." Nothing more was said as they drank their tea, but if Number 6 was wary, then the Doctor felt just the same. Perhaps more so.

"I'm sorry. Your request has been denied."

The Master slammed the yellow telephone onto the desk. It was an infuriating communications system, and the chirpy female voice at the end of the line did nothing to improve his temper. Nevertheless, he still recognised the need for caution. It would be foolish to reveal his hand too soon – not if there was another way. "I will not be beaten," he muttered, sinking back into the hemispherical chair. "There is more than one way to achieve my goal, and by hook or by crook, I shall succeed."

"So, why are you here?"

The question had caught the Doctor off-guard, but only for a second. "For my own good, or so they say."

Number 6 pressed him. "What sort of work were you engaged in?"

"My work took me… out of the country," he replied. "I tended to interfere in things that didn't concern me, and found myself upsetting the status quo."

"So what are you – a terrorist?"

"Perhaps 'mediator' would be a better word," the Doctor stressed. "A rather active mediator."

"Interesting." Number 6 seemed to consider for a moment. "I did the same sort of thing myself, once. Would you perhaps consider actively mediating here, in the village?"

The implied meaning was clear, and it was all the Doctor could do to keep his expression as neutral as possible.

"I want a word with you!"

The Master smiled. "Doctor, how nice to see you again. No ill effects from Rover, I trust?"

"Never mind that." He strode down the walkway to the central desk. "What's all of this about?"

"The village?"

"No, you." The Doctor wasn't in the mood for jokes. "I came here of my own free will, to experience first hand what life in this place was like. And then I find you here, acting as second in command to whoever is ultimately in charge. Ever since, I feel as though I've been manipulated. But to what end?"

The Master flicked a switch, and a chair rose up from beneath the floor. "You seem to have a lot of questions, Doctor. Why not sit down and see if you can work out the answers."

Reluctantly, the Doctor took the proffered chair. "I find it hard to believe that you're here purely for reasons of study. You're up to something – that much is evident. And yet, everything in the village seems to be running as normal – well, as normal as can be expected in a place like this. Apart from the death of that poor chap earlier today, the fact that nothing unusual has happened here concerns me. It even bothers Number 6, and that's worrying in itself. The only common factor in all of this is you."

The Master nodded, as though accepting a compliment. "You're here too, Doctor."

"Yes, but only as an observer. You're here in temporary charge, as the current Number 2. Anyone in that position is expected to break Number 6, to find out the reasons for his resignation. You haven't done that. In fact, you've been noticeable by your relative absence."

"I have other things to do."

"But what things, I wonder?" The Doctor puzzled over this. "They want information, but you haven't exactly been following their orders. A dangerous precedent, wouldn't you agree?"

The Master shifted in his chair. "You're fishing, Doctor. And you've caught nothing."

"I don't think so." He thought back over what had happened. "There doesn't seem to have been any restrictions on myself or Number 6. We seem to have been left alone, apart from the surveillance cameras. Almost as if… of course! You planned this, from the moment of my arrival in the village." The Master's silence spoke volumes to the Doctor. "Number 6 and I have been thrown together, so that… so that I might unwittingly gain his confidence. I wonder…" He leapt out of his chair, reaching across to stab a few surveillance buttons on the desk. The picture on the huge screen displayed various locations, until it settled on the helipad. A figure was just climbing into a waiting helicopter. The Doctor hit the zoom button, and now could clearly see the old man, supposedly dead from Rover's attack, still very much alive and leaving the village. "Hah! That proves it. You would never have got Number 6 talking so openly to me, not unless a small demonstration was arranged to prove I wasn't one of the village's spies."

"He's very good at his job," said the Master, as they watched the helicopter take off and head out across the sea. "However, Doctor, you haven't quite worked it all out – not this time."

"So why don't you enlighten me?"

"A pleasure. As you are so fond of saying, Doctor, knowledge is a dangerous weapon, particularly in the wrong hands."

The Doctor stared at his old enemy. "Go on."

The Master smiled. "This village is a fascinating concept, and I shall take its secrets for myself."

"And just how do you intend to do that?" The Doctor scoffed. "I doubt very much that those in charge are likely to hand over their blueprints to you."

"You are correct, Doctor. Despite my length of time here, I have been unable to uncover the identity of the one who controls all of this. Even while holding my current position of authority, such information has been denied to me."

"I should think so too," the Doctor approved. "Sounds like your latest scheme is over before it's begun."

"Not so," the Master countered. "There is one person who I could manipulate in my quest."

"But who…?" The Doctor paused, at last understanding. "You plan to use him?" He turned to the view screen, watching Number 6. "Oh, you really have gone too far!"

"It's simplicity itself," the Master explained. "He's given nothing away about himself, but at the same time Number 6 has steadily gained an understanding about the workings of this place. All I needed was someone for him to confide in, and you, Doctor, seemed the ideal candidate. I must say, your arrival here was most fortuitous."

"So, you'd take the knowledge that Number 6 has acquired and use it to bring the current leaders down, leaving a vacancy which you would be more than willing to fill." The Doctor took in the audacity of the Master's plan. Using an outsider to destroy an existing regime. But while a part of him applauded the idea, he was still resolute in his stand against such a scheme. "You realise you'd be destroying this particular timeline?"

"A small price to pay," the Master replied.

"Not so small," the Doctor told him. "We both know what happens here; the village becomes the victim of some kind of fall out, and Number 6 retains his individuality. If you upset that balance, a vital nexus point in the space-time continuum will be breached. That can't be allowed to happen."

The Master seemed to enjoy the possibility. "And how do you intend to stop me?"

"Oh, this won't be down to me," the Doctor replied. "You've dug your own trap this time."

"What do you mean?" The Master was thrown by this. "I've prepared for every eventuality."

"Except for the human condition." It was the Doctor's turn to smile. "They have been seeking information, and he has refused to give it. Number 6 won't see any difference between you and them, so why should he help you? He'll only see your plan as some trick to make him lower his guard. And I still don't think he completely trusts me, even now. He asked me to help him in his own scheme against the village, but I imagine that was to test where my particular loyalties lay. Number 6 is a law unto himself, and he's hardly likely to trust a Number 2, or anyone else for that matter."

The Master's fury was evident. "Then I shall find another way. I shall use their trust in me…"

"A trust that only exists while you are useful to them," the Doctor reminded him. "Your predecessors have all failed to prise anything out of Number 6, and were never seen again. Once they see that you've fared no better, you'll be next in line for the same fate. Doesn't sound promising, does it?"

Any rejoinder died in the Master's throat, as he digested what the Doctor had said. His term in the chair had not exactly been a resounding success, and he had no doubt that, whoever was ultimately responsible for this village and its residents, they would have very little patience with any excuses he might put forward in his defence. "I take it you have an alternate plan, Doctor?" he muttered bitterly.

"Just one," he replied. "Take your TARDIS and leave this place. I shall do the same, and we can leave the village to its own devices – however unwelcome they may be."

The Master eyed his nemesis thoughtfully. "Surely, you must be tempted to…"

"No." The Doctor was certain. "If I gave him the chance to join me in the TARDIS, Number 6 would only be exchanging one form of imprisonment for another. His one true freedom can only be that of his own making. And whatever our own opinions, this timeline must be left to run its course, with no interference from either of us. We have no place here."

The red phone on the Master's desk began bleeping. He started to reach for it, but the Doctor forestalled him. "If you want my advice, you'll let it ring." Then he stood up and walked toward the metal doors, which opened before him. He glanced back at the Master, smiling, his hand raised in farewell. "Be seeing you."

The Master watched the doors close behind the Doctor, as the red telephone continued its incessant ringing.

The Doctor was at the door to his flat, when Number 6 caught up with him. "Well? Have you considered my offer?"

"I'm afraid events have overtaken both of us," the Doctor replied. "It seems I'm considered too dangerous a commodity, even to remain in the village. I'm to be relocated on the next flight."

Number 6 was stunned by this news. "But… no one leaves the village."

"Apparently, there's always a first time. Pity, I was starting to enjoy the company."

Number 6 returned the Doctor's smile with a heavy heart. "Good luck."

"And to you." The Doctor watched Number 6 walk away before entering his flat, the door automatically closing behind him. He strode into the bedroom, and opened the wardrobe door. Inside, the TARDIS was waiting for him, ready to take him away. By now the Master would be on his way – the Doctor had recognised the hemispherical chair was not all that it seemed – and now it was his turn to leave.

"Freedom," he sighed. "A concept not always appreciated."


End file.
